Colt
By Z4ch4ry M!L35
“No matter what the police report says, it was the turtle that was truly to blame. Allow me to introduce myself. My name’s Colt, and I was framed for murder; the murder of Williams, Wilson R, or at least the what the coroner’s report said. We called him Willy Wilson. He was my best friend. He was the coolest iguana I’d ever known. And that freakin’ turtle took him from the world and pinned the whole wrap on me. I don’t even know that guy’s name, but I want him dead. And I know just how I’m going to do it.
“Strictly off the record, I’ve gotten myself mixed up in some business endeavors that don’t exactly qualify as legal. Guy’s name was Ramirez. We’d done some gun runnin’ a while back. But it’s not him that’s important; it’s his friend Gabriel Alvarez. He’s got connections in La Eme, the Mexican Mafia. But first things first, I’m going to have to get out of this dump.
That’ll be easy, though. Follow me.” Colt and his visitor walked over to the weight room where they saw a massive prison guard supervising the inmates.
“See that Gila monster over there? He’s the guard for my cell block. He’s on the juice, and he’s got ‘roid-rage bad, man. But, I know a guy. His name is Buck, and he’s the warden’s favorite trustee.He’s also this prison’s dealer. For a steep price he’s “organized” me some horse tranquilizer. All I gotta do is swap a couple of his syringes with a couple of mine. He’s takes ’em thinkin’ they’re his steroids, and bam. Dude’ll out like a lamp. All I’ll have to do is sneak out of my cell, take his uniform, wait ‘til the right moment, and I then waltz right outta here, scot-free.
“Thing is, I need an alias, and a distraction.I don’t look a thing like my guard and I can't be caught in a guard’s uniform without an ID. That’s where you come in. I hear that you can forge just about anything. Well, I grabbed this template for the standard issue prison guard identification card. I need you to recreate one with this information...” Colt hands over the template and a piece of paper with some sloppy writing scribbled all over it.
“Antony Ryan Thompson? You’re going to go from a name like Colton Lee to that? Really? Whatever, it’s your choice. Either way, by this time next week, we’ll have you sprung from this hole. That letter you wrote me better not have lied. I expect my payment in full”, replied the visitor.
“Don’t worry your pretty little head, you’ll get you the money. But I’m also going to need an explosion. A big one. Placed strategically in the west wing of the infirmary. A resourceful armadillo such as yourself can accomplish such a task, right?”
“Like I said, I expect to be paid in full and on time. If not, you can count on being right back in this pit of yours… or worse. I’ll be back in a week with your ID. And that night be prepared for your distraction. I’ll keep my promises, but the rest is up to you. It’s been a pleasure doin’ business with ya, Mr. Thompson.”
Colt spent a restless week in his cell. He waited anxiously for his informant to arrive with his fake ID. Finally though, Colt was roused from his sleep one morning by his guard , “Rise ‘n shine, sleepin’ beauty. You’ve got yourself a visitor.” Colt walked into the visitation room, eagerly awaiting his opportunity for escape.
“Mornin’ Mr. Lee. Pleasure to meet ya”, said the armadillo, pretending he’d never met Colt before.
“Cut the crap and give me what you promised.”
“You’re one angry lil’ lizard ain’t ya? Well, here you are, sir.” The Armadillo hands Colt a simple-looking Bible. It had a black leather cover and the words ‘Holy Bible’ printed in gold across the front.”I sure do love the Bible. My favorite verse is that Proverbs 10:12 one. You should read it sometime.”
Colt knew exactly what that meant. It meant his ID was hidden in page with Proverbs 10:12 on it.
“The guard usually juices up at around 7:30. Give about a half-hour for me to take his crap, then light this place up.” Colt whispered to his informant. Then they both silently walk away in opposite directions.
When Colt got back to his cell, he removed the fake ID card and stashed it in a small hole in the wall where he’d stashed the horse tranquilizers from he’d received from Buck. Later that day, at 7:00, when he was permitted to roam around the prison grounds, he removed the ID and the syringes and made his way to prison guards’ locker room hiding them both in his sleeve. He knew they never locked the locker room door because he’d overheard a couple of the guards complaining about it. What he hadn’t anticipated though, were locks on the lockers.
Ah crap! I didn’t think about that, He thought to himself, there’s gotta’ be master-key or something around here, right? So colt started rifling through the desk in the corner of the room.
“Stop right there! What are you doing!” it was his guard. Colt froze when he heard that all too familiar ‘click’ of a .38 special being cocked. “I’ll give you 3 seconds to stop whatever it is you’re doing and get back to you cell! One… Two… Thr—“ Colt rushed his guard, syringe in hand, ready to strike!
Before the guard could make his shot, Colt tackled him to the ground. After a brief scuffle, Colt managed to stick the guard with the horse tranquilizer and subdue him. For good measure, Colt proceeded to inject him with another dose. A little bit ahead of schedule, Colt stripped the guard to his underwear and then dawned his uniform. He then stuffs the guard into a broom closet and slid the new ID card into the guard’s lanyard.
He glanced up at the clock. 7:28. He’d had a half-an-hour wait before the infirmary exploded. He couldn’t leave this room for fear that the body would be discovered or somebody would figure out that “Sergeant Thompson” didn’t actually exist. But he also couldn’t risk staying in the room with the body when a bunch of guards were around preparing for their shift. The locker room was also much closer to the infirmary than he’d wanted to be.
Colt decided it was safer to return to his cell block. He sat in at the desk that he’d seen his guard sit in every night before lock-down. He started to go through his guard’s desk when feels a gentle tap on his shoulders and a voice say, “Hey Jeff, you got any more of those recruit application forms? I’m fresh out.”
When Colt turned around, he saw an enormous hulk of an opossum standing before him. Corporal Jonathan McMurry. “Hey, you ain’t Jeff. What happened to him? And if you ain’y Jeff, then who are ya?”
Colt just assumed that Jeff was the guard he’d knocked out. “ I’m Sergeant Thompson. I’m usually up in the main office, pushing pencils. Yeah, uh, Jeff wasn’t feelin’ too well and he went home for the week. Warden asked me to cover for him. Nice to meet ya.”
“Well, nice to meet ya too. Welcome to cell block F-6. Must be nice to get outta that stuffy office, aint it?”
“Yeah. Anyway, about those forms”, replied Colt, cutting off Corporal McMurry. He then started to rummage through Jeff’s desk like he had at least some idea of what he was doing. After coming up emptied handed he said, “Sorry. Guess I’m out too. Might wanna check with Johnson though. He might have some.” Colt prays that there's someone in the building named Johnson.
“Oh yeah. Good call. Thanks, man. I’ll see you around.”
Colt check the clock. 7:53. The explosion would be going off any time now. And then he’d be free to take his revenge.
BOOOOOOOMM!!!!! The explosion. Colt looked at the clock. 8:00. “Right on schedule”, he says. Colt got up from the desk and walked calmly through the ensuing chaos. The plan had worked brilliantly. Nobody was in the main lobby and nobody stopped to question Colt’s actual identity. Colt simply strolled on out the front door, hopped into a police cruiser, and sped off towards Mexico.
very good! Here are the errors I found. (errors are in red.)
Gender:
Points: 890
Reviews: 12